Until The End
by monochrome1994
Summary: MY FIRST FANFIC! :D It's not original, I warn you. Set in the apartment before they put their risky plan into action, Matt takes a depressed Mello by surprise. How often has this scene been done, I hear you cry? And I suck at summaries. Feedback please!
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N) ...This is just my opinion, but I feel my writing is way too waffly. I go on and on and _on_. =_='**

**There will hopefully be only 7-ish chapters to this, I've written 5 + 1/2. XD**

**Review please? It's my first fanfic, I'd like some valid criticism. :D**

* * *

So, this was what is was like...

Mello hated it. He hated the way the atmosphere pressed in on him from all sides, choking him to the point where he couldn t even taste chocolate. He experimented, precariously snapping a chunk off the end of the bar with his teeth, but try as hard as he might, his mouth was dry. The usually delightful coolness that melted in his mouth was bitter and tasteless and created a lump in his throat as he attempted to swallow. It was at that moment he finally gave up. After one last longing glance, he carefully lowered the half-eaten bar onto the table in front of him, which was already a mess of countless papers and files strewn across the surface. Mello let out a muffled sound, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, as he bent forward and put his face in his hands. His blonde tresses hung over his eyes, shielding them from... well, he didn t quite know what. God, his head hurt.

'Hey.'

Startled, Mello lifted his gaze in response to the voice. It belonged to another guy, hunched on the couch opposite. The old, tattered thing sagged under his weight, but the man didn t seem to mind. He was wiry and slender, but his long-sleeved, stripy t-shirt was taut where it stretched at the slight swell of his muscles, and it seemed he naturally filled the space with his presence.

His mop of magenta-red hair hanging over his amber-tinted goggles gave him a boyish appearance, but at the same time they also hid his eyes, right now fixed on his handheld game console in his lap. Mello didn't know if he liked the effect of him looking virtually expressionless, but that wasn't his concern right now. He was shocked he'd even forgotten there was someone else in the room with him, barely two metres separating them.

'What, Matt?' he groaned, rubbing at his eyes. How much sleep had he had? He didn't know. Whatever, it didn't matter.  
'No need to be so cold,' the red-haired guy grinned, not quite at Mello, more at the game in front of him. If he hadn't been talking to him, Mello could have sworn he was completely absorbed in that irritating blippy thing. He usually was.

'Just get to the point,' Mello said bluntly, ignoring him.  
'That _was_ the point, sort of,' Matt admitted, actually folding the console and dropping it on the table top next to the chocolate, indicating he'd had enough. That caught Mello off-guard.

'H-huh,' he mumbled brusquely, then snapped, 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'You know.'

'No, I don't know,' Mello replied angrily, feeling his voice strain. He delicately touched the hollow in his throat in surprise, ashamed by his own venom. Had that been strictly necessary?

'I think you do,' Matt said tonelessly, yet quieter than before. Mello didn't say anything, so Matt continued. 'You're so tense... you've just been sitting there, not talking, or even doing anything since you talked to Lidner over the phone. I know something's up. You're not even eating chocolate...'

'Matt,' Mello tried to interrupt, but once Matt had started, he kept at it, acting as though Mello hadn't spoken.

'...and you might have thought I hadn't noticed, but I have, and I'm saying so now. Out with it. Was it Lidner? Was it something about the case? Or maybe-'

'Matt...'

'-could it have been to do with... something more... I don't know, _personal_...?'

Mello stared. Matt wasn't looking at him.

'..._What _did you just say?'

Matt ignored him, and kept going.

'I know to you, you're both good friends, but maybe she doesn't see it that way-'

'MATT!' Mello cut him off, slamming a fist on the table, making Matt jump suddenly but it managed to make him stop talking. Embarrassed, Mello said more calmly,

'I'm fine. It's nothing to do with the case, OR Lidner. Well, Kira does come into it, but it's nothing major. Seriously! Where the hell did THAT bullcrap come from? Why do you even _care_?'

There was a small silence. Then Matt said hesitantly, 'I... I don t know. I'm sorry. I was just-'

'No, _I'm_ the one who's sorry,' Mello sighed. _Damn it, Mello,_ he thought to himself with frustration. _Just because you've got issues doesn't mean you're allowed to take it out on other people. Look where THAT got you. Matt doesn't need to get involved._

_Not again._

'Matt, Lidner's just a friend, and a valuable source of information to us in this case. I thought you knew that.'

Matt looked at his boots. '... Yeah. I did. Sorry.'

More silence.

Mello didn't like it. He'd been immersed in his own thoughts, unable to concentrate on how silent and depressing it really was in this accommodation, and now he'd been yanked cruelly back to reality. No, it wasn't _Matt's_ fault. Mello just hated to be reminded of how insecure he really was.

The awkward emptiness in the atmosphere now made his head hurt even more, and he resumed cradling his face in his leather palms.

Matt didn't, however, resume his game. As soon as he noticed Mello had gone quiet again, he tilted his head in Mello's direction and didn't move from that position.

He kept looking.

Everything about Mello was special to him.

They'd been close friends from years and years ago, way back when they were both still at Wammy's House together. They'd get up to strange, weird, yet unforgettable things - Mello always the mastermind behind the crimes, Matt following suit enthusiastically. Nothing they did ever made much sense, but Matt always enjoyed himself, despite the fact Mello was always the boss.

Mello trusted him. Matt was probably the first to ever be trusted by him... not many people wanted to come within a five-metre radius of someone who constantly got wound up and occasionally snapped, and Mello didn't care about anyone anyway. The only one he seemed to care about was Near. Matt could remember every painful detail of an evening after classes where Mello would just pace up and down the room, fuming his blonde hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes dark.  
'That bastard... why is it I can never beat him? _Why?_ I studied WEEKS in advance for that test; I don t think he even touched the textbook ONCE! So _why?_ How is it that I work so hard and all that I can EVER achieve is second place? I HATE it! I hate _HIM!... '_

Matt would always try his best to calm Mello, to reassure him, tell him that he was miles better than Near could ever be but he doubted his words ever reached Mello's ears.

That hurt.

But Matt also loved how Mello showed everything he thought on his face, it made it harder for him to lie, therefore he spoke his mind over half the time. And, Mello always said, what was the point in flattering people when they _obviously_ deserved to hear the truth? That did end up getting him into trouble, but it was an admirable feature. Matt didn't feel he could ever do that.

Mello was pretty emotional, that was true, and maybe because of this he had a surprisingly sensitive side. Whenever Matt used to hang out in Mello's room playing games, Mello would read books. At first Matt just thought he was studying, like always, but one day he glanced vaguely at the title and noticed it was Shakespeare... Romeo and Juliet. Matt had been incredulous - what a soppy choice. It was probably for English class or something. Only after what seemed hours of companionable silence, Matt could swear he heard Mello sniffle slightly before he snapped the book shut. And when he knuckled his eyes afterwards, he just claimed to have something in his eye.

Mello was unique.  
Different from anyone that Matt had ever met.

And now, as he gazed at Mello, he breathed in the image:

Messed-up blonde locks, highlighted gold and russet and many other colours in the dim light of the room.

His skimpy, tight-fitting leather vest was zipped open slightly at the top, exposing his neck nicely and the rosary he always wore around it, the cross pendant swaying in empty air over his chest with the movement of his every breath.

The black complemented his strong arms, now wrapped around his knees.

His back was hunched. Matt could see the ruptures in his shoulder from the length of the scar Mello had received only recently. He knew that scar continued on to his back, over his shoulder blade, part of his neck and (once) almost-angelic face. Matt had been the one to clean him up when he found him in that state.

He looked so...  
_Lonely._

He may always act tough around other people, but Matt knew deep down that all Mello wanted was care, and warmth, and even love.  
It made Matt's chest hurt, seeing Mello cradling himself like a tiny doll.

Like no-one wanted him -

_Matt wanted him. _

Mello's head was on fire.  
It didn't allow him to think straight for even a second.  
His mind was filled with only one thing:

_This is what it felt like. _

Mello didn't realise he was crying until he felt the palms of his gloved hands grow steadily damper, and he inwardly panicked. He wished Matt wasn't here to see him; he'd probably smirk and deliver some sarcastic remark. So he fought them back, and made sure he didn t breathe through his nose, otherwise he was sure he would have sniffed, and that would have made it obvious. Instead, he felt his insides heaving and racking with sobs that wanted to escape, but he forced his body to remain calm.

There was no need to be so _dramatic_ all the time, Mello thought bitterly.

That's how he stayed for what felt like hours, but it must have been only minutes - Mello silently weeping. What was he crying about, really? He didn't know.  
He supposed part of it was the loss of things he d never get to do.

He'd never gone back to Wammy's. Maybe he was too ashamed of facing the past. But he was sad that he'd never get the chance to make amends.

He'd never ridden his motorbike at full speed down the freeway, feeling the wind on his face and the feeling of pure adrenaline and exhilaration. Would he ever get to accomplish that now?

He'd never beaten Matt in a game of wrestling - _that_ was humiliating. He really ought to have proved his strength in order to maintain the position as boss. The memory made him smile vaguely.

Near.  
He never had beaten him in anything.  
That was maybe his biggest regret.  
Yet, it was necessary in these times.

Mello also found himself regretting that he'd never settled down at any point. Girls had never really held much interest for him as a kid; they were aliens from a far-off planet as far as he was concerned.

Still, he found himself thinking about Lidner. Had Matt been right? Did Lidner think of Mello as more than a friend? It shocked him. He'd never realised that as a possibility, and to be honest, he wasn't sure what he felt about that...

_No,_ he told himself firmly. He didn't like her in that way, and she didn't like him. _Why would she, anyway_? Mello reminded himself hollowly. His mouth hinted the indication of a vague attempt at a smirk, but it made his eyes sting more.

He'd never allowed himself to feel for others, and he'd never been loved. No-one would ever love him...

It was then he noticed the sound of breathing.

So close to his face, he could feel it... brushing lightly across his flushed cheeks.

Mello peeked between his fists, and got a shock:

it was Matt. He was crouched down, his bangs inches from Mello's own.

Mello froze.

What the hell was Matt doing? Trying to scare him? He'd been so quiet Mello hadn't noticed him approaching, and given him the shock of his life.

Mello waited apprehensively, not sure what to do. He supposed if it was a trick, he'd pretend to be Matt's bait until he figured out what he was doing. Then he'd give Matt a shock back. Yeah...

Every second, Matt was getting closer. Their faces were now only centimetres apart. Mello could feel the heat of Matt's body enveloping him, almost like having a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It relaxed him for a moment, and in that split second he forgot even his own anxiety.

He couldn't see beyond Matt's goggles, not in this dim light, so he didn't know if Matt had his eyes open or not.

Matt gently pulled Mello's wrists out of the way of his face.

Mello saw Matt swallow, shown by the slight dip in his slender throat, and he tried to look into Matt's eyes. What was he doing? Mello wanted answers, so he searched the dark, shiny surface of the goggles for any hint of emotion.

Matt brought his face closer, and suddenly Mello found his eyes.

They looked so large, and green... and innocent, like a child's...

and Mello was unable to tear himself away as Matt slowly, but surely brushed his lips against Mello's own...

* * *

**your thoughts...? *looks hopeful***

**just a few reviews would do me fine... I feel unloved. T^T**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N) Hopefully this chapter is better than the last... Matt and Mello at Wammy's! Tis fluffy! :3**

* * *

Mello was numb.

He couldn't have moved even if he wanted to.

He was on the edge of his seat, eyes wide and staring, dumbstruck, as he desperately tried to convince himself he'd fallen asleep on the chair, this was just a very weird dream and Matt was still a safe distance away on the couch opposite, playing games and maybe smoking a cigarette as he concentrated. Good old, practical Matt.

But it wasn't a dream, it was all too real, and Mello realised with a slight panic that the gentle lips that had met his own with such a light, feathery touch were locking on with more confidence, until Mello's mouth was completely enclosed by the warmth.

Matt closed his eyes, feeling the intensity of Mello's gaze scorching the dark, shiny surface of his goggles. They hid everything Matt had buried deep in his soul. That was why he wore them, after all...

would he ever have made it this far if people had been able to tell what he was thinking? Mello had exploited his emotions on many occasions, but he was different – Matt was too afraid. He could lie so well, and pretend everything was normal to the point where even the most perceptive person could be fooled by his stoic demeanour. But his eyes gave _everything_ away.

Therefore, the goggles created an invisible barrier – one that barred others from seeing more than necessary – and resulted in no-one trusting him.

Except for Mello...

_Just_ like Mello.

Matt had always harboured a secret attraction for him, and he'd always squashed down his own feelings. Mello couldn't know, because Matt's biggest fear was that Mello would reject him, and abandon him, and then he'd be alone again.

Matt couldn't bear that thought.

Before he came to Wammy's, aged 12 – love was an emotion Matt had never experienced.

His parents had been highly-sought criminals, caught up in drugs and burglaries. The secret to their success had been their _kid_, and Matt was only valuable to them on 'missions', where they'd abuse his ability to crack codes and hack computers for their own gain. Every time, that was all it was – _money, money, money_. They never needed Matt for anything else.

Even when their hoard was successful, the only significant hint of appreciation shown was that moment when a large hand would reach out and clap him on the head, for about a second... an offhand gesture he supposed belonged to the man he named 'Father'.

But then he'd be ignored.

He remembered sitting in their dump of an apartment, worse than the one he was in now. Hunched in the corner, knees up to his chin, his wide green eyes burning as he watched the dancing figures swaying precariously and giggling and slurping from long-necked bottles in front of him. They were drunk again. The notion made his stomach turn, and the back of his neck would prickle from the cold sensation creeping up on him... frightening memories. Matt would wait with dread, every night those people got drunk... wait for the shouting to start. Then the beatings and screaming that would follow through until dawn.

It was always Matt who ended up screaming.

After his ordeals, they'd leave him there, with an almost satisfied smirk shared as they left.

Bruised, bloody, and shaking... Matt would lie in the dark, sobbing tears of anguish and pain. Did they enjoy it? Did they feel big and important when they laid into him? Did they even _care_ that he was their only son...?

'_You were an accident, you little swine, and nothing more,'_ the woman he called 'Mother' hissed at him in cold blood as she had him pinned to the ground, his skinny elbow wrenched up by the side of his head – his mouth forcefully silenced by a single slender, feminine (yet lethal) hand – but his eyes clearly shrieked with the agony. They only tortured him more if he cried, calling him weak... he _felt_ weak. '_Did you think we wanted you? That you were... NECESSARY...?'_ The sneering would continue as she raked her nails over one pallid cheek...

'_I NEVER ASKED TO BE BORN!'_ Matt seethed to himself, his head splitting in two with rage at the unfairness of it all. And there he'd remain on the dirty floor, rendered unable to move... all alone until the early rays of daybreak crept across his tearstained face...

It was that one morning, however, when they didn't return.

The same morning Matt had heaved his limp body out of the position in which he'd cried himself to sleep.

The same morning he'd packed a small bag containing his essentials, including a miniature DS that he'd slipped into his pocket that one secret time during another raid and his parents had never noticed, and he'd kept safe in fear of it being taken away.

The same morning he'd decoded the lock on the safe he'd pretended never to know about, stolen several hundred spare dollars and stuffed them into his bag.

The same morning he made a call and told them he was ready to leave.

In other words, the same morning he escaped.

Less than a week later, the services dropped him at Wammy's House, Winchester, England.

Matt was in total awe of the place: it was _huge_, and surrounded by beautiful green gardens and gravelled paths... the building was larger than what he'd imagined a mansion to be, with ornately sculpted, patterned walls, and so many windows looking out at the landscape... it was a life filled with more light than Matt had ever experienced.

He started to sweat a little though as he entered through the shiny black gates, approaching the main door closer and closer. He knew this was a place that specialized in above-average kids, kids with special talents – though he'd never really considered what he had a _talent_ at the time – but that didn't mean they would be nice, or even understanding.

The refined exterior of the residence now only made him feel more and more uncomfortable... perhaps they'd all be really posh, pampered and brilliant, like how he imagined a genius to be. They'd all look down on him here for being scruffy, he was sure of it... he burned with humiliation under his loose t-shirt, white with large black stripes and long sleeves and open neck, covered with crusty stains.

He made an attempt to brush away some of the crumbs from his lunch off his front... his very first British fish and chips, scarfed down and swallowed in about two minutes flat, it was that delicious. He'd been starving at the time, literally – he'd had to fend for himself whenever his parents abandoned him, and there'd only ever been a few scraps lying around... he'd never had a proper meal, which explained why he was so painfully stick-thin.

It had only been an hour ago or so that they'd stopped at the gas station and fed him in the café, but now his stomach felt horribly empty, and squeezed with apprehension.

'_Why am I here again?'_ he asked himself.

His knees buckled as they finally arrived at the door... polished mahogany, with a brass handle... but that's not the first thing he noticed.

It was the lock.

It didn't look very complex, despite the model... the smooth rectangular screen with touch screen pads didn't change the fact it was a simple number lock with a code required to open it.

It suddenly occurred to Matt he was being watched closely by the old man beside him, who'd stopped on the front step, metal briefcase still in hand. He glanced at Matt curiously through his half-moon spectacles, his dark eyes twinkling under the brim of his hat, a smile shining through his white moustache.

'Would you care to do the honours?'

Matt was shocked: how had he guessed? He glanced down at his bare hands... his fingers were trembling. It was obvious Matt was itching to reach up to the lock, he enjoyed a challenge. He knew it would be a cinch though, despite getting all excited.

_When he'd done the same thing for THEM on numerous occasions..._

_No_, Matt thought firmly. He squashed the two people to the back of his mind. He was never going to see them again... and that thought instantly calmed him, allowing his arms to move the hands up to the lock. As soon as his fingers touched the pads, he began typing at breakneck speed. He concentrated fiercely, enjoying the speed, sensing the wires inside the device whirring at his command.

With a short _beep_ and a click of the door unlocking, Matt confirmed his victory. He let out a sigh of contentment, and looked up at the man beside him, who chuckled.

'I see I was right in choosing you,' he said softly, scanning Matt's flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and beamed encouragement before striding into the hallway. Face glowing with pleasure, Matt trailed after him like a puppy, feeling more hopeful about life here. Maybe he could feel like he belonged, for once in his life...

The happy thought entertained him for about five seconds, when unexpectedly he vaguely saw a flash of black and yellow before all the wind was knocked out of him and he crashed to the ground, an elbow nudging painfully into his stomach.

'Uwaaaaagh... what the _hell_?' an irritable voice groaned, really close to Matt's ear. The weight of a body was pressed up against his lungs, rendering him unable to breathe... they weren't heavy, but their presence was uncomfortable.

'Ooof,' Matt gasped, struggling underneath them.

'Huh? Hey, watch where you're going next time, dumbass! That really hurt!' the voice hissed, annoyance radiating from them in waves. Matt felt a chill as they released him from their grip, the sudden warm weight lifting.

Not just that... had he already ruined whatever chance he had of making friends? He drooped visibly, hanging his head as he sat up slowly, to hide his face with his bangs. It hadn't even been his fault...

'Hey, _look_ at me when I'm talking to you!' the voice snarled, further away now. Matt decided it was safe to look up, and when he peeked cautiously from under his hair, he got a shock.

It was the slender form of a girl, with fair skin, slim hips and chin-length, feathery blonde hair that hung over her bluey-green eyes.

Her eyes were kind of cold, and rather dead-looking, but apart from that... she was smaller than Matt, but her presence was intimidating in a way that Matt couldn't really explain. It was clear her body was delicate, but it was masked by her choice of bold black clothing.

One word Matt would use to describe her was... cute. _Really_ cute... and there was something about the way she held herself, and looked Matt defiantly in the eye with no hint of guilt that enthralled him. To his intense surprise, he felt his cheeks heating up... he was _embarrassed._ That thought alone was enough to increase his blush, and he couldn't do anything about it... why? Why was he blushing?

Matt didn't understand. He'd never been in a situation like this before. He tried to calm down and rationally think his way through this, to analyse the circumstances. He was embarrassed... why? He'd found himself staring at a pretty girl, and checking her out, then feeling crushed as he remembered he'd crashed into her and made her mad at him... he probably looked like such an idiot... but why did he care what the girl thought of him, anyway...?

It was no use, Matt couldn't think about this logically at all... his head felt like it was in a blender, thoughts whizzing round and round and round, faster and faster, mixing everything up inside...

'_Hello?_' the girl demanded, waving a hand in front of Matt's face. Her fingers brushed Matt's flushed face, and Matt's chest throbbed suddenly. He panicked, this wasn't good... he didn't feel right...

'H-huh,' he stuttered, real intelligently. He mentally cursed himself.

The girl's expression dulled from annoyed to resigned, and she leant back from Matt, sighing carelessly. 'Great. Another hopeless case.'

'Th-that's kinda harsh...' Matt mumbled half-heartedly, not sure if he wanted her to hear or not.

'_Well_.'

Matt jumped – he'd forgotten about the old man. His eyes quickly swivelled towards him, trying to meet his gaze over the girl's blonde hair, which was distracting him no end. It just sort of hung choppily over one eye, ever so slightly... Matt's fingers were itching to brush it out the way, and that thought scared him. Her presence filled the room until it seemed there was nothing left...

'Matt –' (Oh, that was right. He'd been told he wouldn't use his real name while he was here.) '–your things have already been deposited in your room. I'll leave it to Mello to show you the way...'

_Mello_... was that the girl's name? Eccentric choice for a name... though he supposed it was only a nickname... Matt tried mouthing it to himself.

'_Me...llo..._' he whispered absent-mindedly, not realising he was perfectly audible to the girl in front of him, only inches away. She turned to look at him witheringly, which made Matt shrink back against the wall. He was kind of afraid of her glare... it made him feel really small and worthless, somehow. He spun his head to look at the old man for help, and got a surprise to learn he'd mysteriously melted away from the scene...

'Matt... that's your name?'

The one named turned back towards the girl, who was looking him up and down with that intense gaze of hers. Matt could feel himself burning with humiliation under his stained t-shirt and grimy jeans and scuffed boots... why hadn't he thought to change at the service station...

The girl, Mello, suddenly smiled – a catlike sort of smile, that made Matt's heart leap for a second, only to swoop downwards again when she uttered, 'You don't talk much, do you?'

'Um... well...' Matt swallowed. 'I-I guess...' He laughed in an attempt to break the tension. 'I guess I get really nervous, around a pretty girl...'

There was a small silence, which Matt didn't comprehend until he suddenly felt fingers at his throat and the force of being slammed against the wall behind him.

'Aaahhh...!' Matt choked, gasping. So painful... what had caused it? He looked into the seething eyes of the girl, who was red in the face, and her bangs were sticking slightly to her forehead, and she was breathing heavily on to Matt's face, in rage, he realised. Whoa... she was strong! Matt hadn't seen that coming... what could he have possibly done wrong?

'_Bastard_...' the girl hissed, practically spitting at him. Her dead eyes were ablaze, piercing him from the inside. Matt's heart was banging in his chest, so loud and fast and hard he was sure it would splurt out at any second and make even more of a mess of his t-shirt. He gulped, struggling to breathe as her cold, slender fingers tightened around his neck...

She leaned up against him, practically crawling on top of him as she pressed Matt harder against the wall. Matt was being tortured, but he endured it. He looked directly into Mello's face, still flushed with anger.

...Her thigh brushed against Matt's inner leg, and he felt a really strange sensation below his stomach, like his pants were getting tighter...

'Y-you...' Mello whispered, venom radiating from her tongue. It was a beautiful sound... Matt strained his ears, trying to suppress the blood that pumped loudly inside his head, to listen to that voice.

'I'll have you know that I'm – I'm – I'm a _boy_, goddit?' Mello snapped out in a rush, cheeks darkening even more. '_Pretty girl_... are you a fucking moron? Who the hell d'you think you're talking to?'

Matt's head suddenly felt cold. Everything inside him deflated.

A _boy_... oh God. This was too mortifying for words. Both boys were blushing furiously, heads turned away from each other deliberately. Mello released Matt quickly, like he was red-hot (which he just about was at this point).

'Call me a girl again and I'll knock you into the twenty-second century,' Mello muttered dangerously, in an attempt to sound threatening.

'S-sure...' Matt murmured, eyes fixed on the floor.

'Get up,' Mello said brusquely. 'I'll show you to your room.'

Matt obeyed, keeping his eyes on the floor, and followed Mello's lead. As soon as he thought it safe to look again, he glanced at the back of Mello's head as they ventured up the staircase.

Too delicate... too feminine... she – no, _he – _was a _guy_? The world had gone insane.

That was how Matt had met Mello. And soon after, various events followed.

* * *

**d'awww, Matt's so adorable and geeky, and Mello's just... adorable and badass. XD Review plz? :c *pleads with eyes***


	3. Chapter 3

**The next chapter! Yay! Be warned, the breaks won't always be so short. I'm a very slow updater indeed. =.=**

* * *

Matt soon came to accustom the fact that it was Mello who was in charge.

For some reason, after that embarrassing incident (which both had never mentioned again, to this day), Mello found it only natural to use Matt – he'd become a necessity in Mello's daily schemes.

For one thing, he was taller, with long limbs and a tough frame, despite being so painfully thin. He could reach things Mello could not, such as chocolate that was 'hidden' on the top cupboard shelf in the Wammy's kitchen.

Secondly, Mello soon discovered Matt wasn't SUCH a hopeless case as he was first impressioned with – that fact remains debateable, of course, particularly when it came to speaking up for himself and making decisions... we'll get to that part later. Matt was actually a potential expert hacker and was a master at breaking codes, as Mello knew only too well from their first encounter... he'd gathered the fact that it had been Matt who'd managed to break in without being detected under Watari's command.

Finally, Mello knew Matt's feelings since that day – not how he'd felt when he was still convinced Mello was a girl, the memory made Mello flush and grind his teeth as he tried not to think about it – the mortification of messing up after barely a minute in a place he'd considered his new home.

Mello had assumed Matt was afraid of him – just like everyone else, he thought bitterly – and Matt DID seem the type who'd jump and get frightened easily, after stuttering in his presence, but he also followed Mello like a puppy, prepared to perform any task, supposedly to make up for his behaviour. Mello would snap at him to get lost and once grabbed Matt by the neck of his shirt again as a threat (Matt being so thin had his heels easily lifted off the ground, despite being taller), but Matt persisted and eventually Mello gave up. After all, there could be an advantage to using him.

That was how Matt became Mello's toy.

Matt was being used again, and quite often taunted and abused for his trouble (though Mello never hit him seriously, it was always a playful whack, quite often in the stomach) but for some reason, he didn't mind a bit. He liked Mello a lot, and went out of his way to be obedient. Whenever Mello was in a temper, Matt would get scared, but he held his ground, and tried to calm him down. Whenever Mello was happy, Matt was happy. Whenever Mello asked him to do something, Matt would leap to help – even at the expense of pausing his game.

This pleased Mello. He began to trust Matt, and even went so far as to call him a friend... something unheard of before in Wammy's House, as far as he was concerned. Onlookers couldn't believe it – since Matt's arrival, Mello had changed. It was a weird friendship – Mello ordering Matt around and Matt obliging with a grin on his face, but they both looked like they were having fun.

Mello had never opened up to anyone before. His purpose was simply to scare all the kids (and some of the grown-ups) senseless, and remain locked up in his room or the library, while everyone was aware of his constant (unsuccessful) attempts at beating Near, a weird kid who looked young for his age despite the white mop of hair on his head and dead-looking eyes, in the next test. Since Matt came and Mello had a companion, he felt obliged to share his findings with Matt, laugh and tease and joke with him, and he didn't seem so scary any more. The other kids could approach him without being apprehensive.

Matt noticed, and felt secretly pleased that he'd had an effect on Mello, though he couldn't work out _why_ he felt so happy about it.

Even so, Mello wasn't completely satisfied. He liked Matt, he wasn't afraid to admit Matt was his friend, but after a while he noticed Matt was STILL following him around. Suddenly, he realised Matt was almost like a loyal manservant, who obeyed orders without complaint and never left his side.

He'd noticed Matt was actually pretty popular, particularly with the girls. Matt was charming, could smile easily and was even good-looking now that he was healthy. His hair was a vibrant magenta-red, his skin was clear, he'd even developed a more muscular figure after gaining weight from having a proper meal three times a day and occasionally chocolate that Mello offered to him, though he claimed it was a bit too sweet for his taste. Without studying at all, Matt gained place as the third-smartest kid in the orphanage – after Near and Mello, of course. Everybody felt comfortable approaching him, even when he was with Mello, and that was probably another reason Mello wasn't feared anymore. Matt seemed such a sunny, cheerful person.

_You'd never have guessed he had such a dark past._

Yet he still prioritized Mello over everything and everyone. Mello noticed that quickly.

_Why?_ Mello thought to himself miserably. _Why does he stay with me, even when he has the potential to lead his own life? He doesn't need my help. He could be fine on his own._

He was sick of it. So he decided to confront Matt one day, alone.

Matt was in the library, playing his game absent-mindedly by the window, bright summery sunlight pouring in. He glanced out at the grounds, where children were playing games of football, and little girls were skipping or picking flowers. His mind travelled back vaguely to a couple of days ago...

He'd been walking by himself down the main corridor, with the intention of finding Mello in his mind. They'd agreed to meet up here and hatch their plan to steal chocolate from the kitchens again. It seemed childish, now that they were almost fourteen, but Mello insisted. It was a tradition, and Matt wasn't about to complain, not as long as Mello was happy and having fun, and he was enjoying himself with him. Matt smiled... he couldn't wait to see Mello.

_Oh. He's not here yet?_ he wondered, straying over to the spot they'd decided on. He was about to sit down and take his game out to play on while he waited, when he noticed the door on the end of the corridor was slightly ajar.

Matt frowned... that door was the kind that automatically shut as soon as it was let go of. So it had to be either propped up... or someone was hiding behind it. _Aha_, he thought mischievously. So, Mello had planned on giving him a little scare, had he? Well, they'd see about that.

Silent as a snake stalking its prey, Matt tiptoed towards the door. He stopped, one metre away, and strained his ears. That's when he heard it – soft breathing, coming from behind the wood that separated them. A smile crept across Matt's face. Now or never.

'GOTCHA!' he yelled, yanking the door open and pouncing on the body stood there.

There was a piercing, surprisingly _feminine_ shriek that emitted from beneath him, sounding uncharacteristically shocked.

Matt was momentarily confused – surely Mello would have hit him by now? He looked down, and he leapt back in shock himself.

It wasn't Mello.

It was a dark-haired girl his own age, curly ringlets hanging either side of her pointed face. She was very pretty, Matt thought. She had large brown eyes and pale pink lips in the shape of a perfect cupid's bow, and soft, pearly-coloured skin. In addition, she was very small and slight, and didn't look like she's weigh much more than a bag of feathers.

Matt recognised her from a couple of his classes... he stretched his mind and guessed that she went by the name of Laurel, if he remembered correctly. She was good at English and History in particular... two subjects that didn't really hold Matt's interest, though he knew Mello liked them. When Mello wasn't studying, he was reading adult literature as a way of getting ahead – anything to beat Near, he supposed.

'I – I'm so sorry,' Matt apologised, taking Laurel's hand and pulling her upright. He'd completely flattened the poor girl, after all. To his surprise, she blushed, smiled and said in a sugary voice, 'I'm OK. Don't worry about it' as she smoothed out her clothes. A blue dress... kind of the same shade as Mello's eyes, Matt thought. 'Why did you yell like that?' the girl asked him shyly.

'Oh...' Matt said hesitantly, distracted from his line of thought, which was whether Mello would look good in that dress. The guy was pretty girly-looking himself; he could probably rival a girl's figure and win. 'I guess... I thought Mello was here, playing a trick on me. I'd better go, I was planning on meeting him – '

'Wait!' Laurel said quickly, and reddened when Matt turned to look at her with a questioning face. Well, she _guessed_ it was questioning – since Matt had started wearing those goggles, which were actually rather cool she thought, it was hard to tell his expression at all. 'I – I mean, before you go, I hope you don't mind talking to me a bit... I mean, if you don't mind...'

Matt stared. 'Um, no... Not at all... d'you want to stay while I wait for Mello? We can wait in the corridor out here...'

He stood up and walked back through the doorway. He hadn't taken two steps before he felt a hand on his arm, almost pulling at him. Confused, Matt turned to look down at Laurel, who was staring at the floor, yet kept a firm hold on his wrist. She was rather pink in the face, and kept her gaze low.

'I...' she whispered, loosening her grip a little. Matt was silent, quietly thankful her grip wasn't as painful as Mello's. Mello was smaller, and actually slimmer than him (despite eating all that chocolate... how did that guy manage it?) but he was very strong, even that day nearly two years ago when Matt had first came to the orphanage. Remembering looking straight into those sharp blue eyes and the feeling of Mello's body pressed up against his own, he felt himself getting hot all over. His breathing became a little unsteady, and he desperately tried to compose himself and remember where he was.

'I... Matt, I mean... I...' Laurel stammered, her gaze still aimed at the floor. If she hadn't been such a cute, timid little thing, Matt would almost certainly have been annoyed. Mello always said what he thought, without any condolence or holding himself back, no matter who it was. Matt had always admired that aspect of him, having never been able to speak his own mind.

'Matt, would you... um...'

_Get on with it_, Matt thought irritably, almost callously. He was surprised at himself – it was probably Mello's influence. Or maybe he was getting agitated because Mello wasn't around to steady him. 'What is it?' he said, in a softer tone to how he felt.

There was a silence, nothing making a sound except for heavy, uneven breathing, none of them sure who it was coming from.

It all came out in one big rush as Laurel went bright red, squeezed his wrist and blurted in a high-pitched voice: 'Would you go out with me? Please?'

The sound echoed up and down the corridor, bouncing off the walls, back into Matt's paralysed brain. His senses went completely numb, and his mind went blank with unpleasant shock.

_...What?_ was all he could utter, inside his own mind.

He was vaguely aware of his mouth hanging open, in a gormless gesture, as he stared at Laurel. She was slowly lifting her head to look at him, hope in her brown eyes as she searched for Matt's own green ones. Matt watched her shy smile fading as she tried and failed to read his expression (or lack, thereof).

He didn't do anything to comfort her, or reassure her, but what was he supposed to do? He'd always thought of himself as antisocial. While it was true people approached him, and he smiled at people and laughed with them, he was only cheerful because Mello was there. He was a secretive sort of guy who preferred to be alone and not let anyone know his feelings, which is why he started wearing goggles. He sought no-one's presence; he was perfectly comfortable on his own...

No, that wasn't true. He quite often, more than quite often, sought the company of one person in particular.

Matt wondered how Mello would feel about this.

'I...' he muttered eventually, unsure what to say or even how to begin. Laurel may not have been able to see his eyes, but she could sense the uncertainty in his voice. Abruptly, she let go of Matt's wrist and resumed looking at the floor.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, chuckling nervously. She attempted to smile, though it looked rather forced, and her voice was wobbling a bit. 'I guess... that was a bit impolite of me. I didn't take your feelings into consideration – '

'No, wait – ' Matt interrupted, then instantly cursed himself for speaking because he still wasn't sure how to respond. But it had to be done.

'Look,' he said, awkwardly. 'Why did you even ask me that in the first place?'

Laurel looked up at him, almost incredulous, but she looked more sad, if anything. 'Because I like you, Matt...'

'But... why? What's so special about me?' Matt persisted, feeling worse and worse every second. God, now _he _was the one who was stalling. He was just making up excuses not to talk, and give him time to think up a half-decent answer.

_Mello would be ashamed_, Matt thought vaguely.

'You... you're so...' Laurel started, going even pinker than before if that was possible. 'Everyone thinks you're so cool. You have such an easygoing personality. You're talented. You're good-looking. You're already much more popular than Mello and Near, the top kids, put together. You seem so...'

Matt's mind switched off, just for a second, at the mention of Mello. What was wrong with Mello? And not only that... these sort of aspects she described him with...that wasn't him. She didn't even _know_ him. She didn't have a clue who he was, what he had done... he was a nobody. Nothing in comparison to Mello, certainly.

With a flash of guilt, Matt recalled that Laurel liked English and History, two subjects Mello was also fond of. Laurel's favourite colour happened to be the exact shade of Mello's eyes, judging by her style of dress. She seemed quiet and an easy thinker, much like Mello when he was calm and subdued. He could think for hours on end, without moving or talking, completely comfortable. This girl looked like she enjoyed reading, something Mello never grew tired of.

And yet... she'd dismissed Mello so easily.

'About Mello – ' Matt said suddenly, cutting Laurel off mid-sentence, ' – what do you think of him?'

'Oh... Mello? Well... he's kind of _weird_, don't you think? I'm sorry, I know he's your friend, but – '

'What's wrong with him?' Matt pursued brusquely, instantly regretting the venom in his voice. She hadn't deserved that.

But he was getting more and more pissed off every second. He could take shit from anyone, he'd put up with those... _people_... for twelve years of his miserable life, until the day it all went away, as proof. But if anyone said anything against Mello, he wasn't going to stand for it. He wasn't just his friend, he was _everything_ to him, Matt realised. Even now, it hit him that for the entire time he'd been involved with Laurel, he'd only had a one-track mind.

Back in the library, two days on, Matt sighed.

Since that situation, Laurel hadn't spoken to him. He didn't think it was because she had a grudge against him for the way he acted (though he wouldn't have blamed her), but because every time her eyes would meet his – or rather, the surface of his goggles – she would turn bright red and look away, sometimes making excuses to leave the room.

It was kind of obvious that Matt had rejected her, even though he hadn't told her as such. No, the reason was that they had been interrupted, and by the worst possible candidate imaginable... Mello himself.

At that moment, Laurel had whispered agonisingly, 'You really don't like me, do you...' and Matt replied: 'No... there's nothing wrong with you. It's just... I can't go out with you. There's already someone in my life who is everything to me.'

It was the first time he'd ever admitted it to anyone, as well as himself. Laurel had walked away, tears in her eyes, and Matt watched her go with remorse.

He tried to convince himself it wasn't his fault... he couldn't do anything for her. And that was when Mello suddenly walked out from the corner of the corridor, greeting him in his usual manner of giving him a slap on the shoulder and a grin.

Only the grin didn't quite reach his eyes this time.

Matt dreaded to think how much Mello had heard.

Sighing, Matt glanced out the library window again. It really was a beautiful day... he considered this with an air of bitterness that he himself couldn't enjoy it. He didn't really like going outside.

You'd have thought, after being cooped up for so long in a dank, dark room with no-one for company except maybe a few spiders and God knows what else crawling around, that he'd gulp down the fresh air and the sunlight like oxygen.

But he'd grown accustomed to sitting inside, hunched up cosily beside Mello on his bed in Mello's private room, as they either chatted, traded chocolate, or just sat together companionably as Mello studied or read and Matt played games. He liked the feeling of safety and security, and the warmth of Mello's body heat so close to him –

Matt's wandering thoughts were cut short when he heard light, quick footsteps approaching him. The library was empty at the moment, except for him. So who could it be?

It was Mello.

* * *

**Dun dun dun! A cliffhanger... sort of? xD I hope you liked it. I think it's OK.**

**Next chapter... a bit of violence. O_o**


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning. O_O**

* * *

'Mello?' Matt whispered hesitantly. He immediately put his game on 'pause' and stared at the boy in front of him. '...You look terrible.'

'That would be because I haven't slept for approximately two days,' Mello replied in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.

His eyes were cold, and ringed with dark shadows. His blonde hair was sticking up, like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. It didn't even look brushed, let alone washed. Not only that, his pale skin looked sallow and unhealthy, and was a painful contrast to the darkness of the black v-neck t-shirt that hung loosely from his narrow shoulders. His elbows looked like they were jutting out.

The usual glow of life that emitted from Mello everywhere he went wasn't there, like he was a light bulb that was slowly dimming as it neared the end of its life. He looked like he could break with the slightest touch.

This was extremely worrying for Matt. Mello wasn't acting like his usual self. Even his voice seemed distant and emotionless.

He looked...

He looked like how Matt used to look. Before Matt had come to Wammy's.

Before his parents had –

'Mello, why do you push yourself so much?' Matt asked quietly. It was almost rhetorical. He knew perfectly well why Mello went all out. But why... why was the goal he craved so important to him?

'I have to succeed L,' Mello answered in a monotone, his eyes not even seeing Matt. His eyes were clouded with insomnia and something else that Matt couldn't identify. 'But that's not important. I wanted to talk about –'

'What do you mean, not important?' Matt interrupted. 'You don't need to lose sleep over it! You're _killing_ yourself with studying and staying up all night and skipping meals. Just take it easy, why don't you?'

'What would you know,' Mello muttered, spite lacing his tone. Matt stopped and swallowed. It was always worse when Mello spoke quietly like that. Really dangerous. He hated to admit it, but he preferred it when Mello was in a rage and throwing things around the room, arms flailing, cursing, his eyes blazing, looking like he'd kill anyone who stepped in his path. At least then he looked alive.

'I would know,' Matt replied uncertainly, 'because –'

_Because he'd come so close to death before._

Mello didn't know a thing about his past. No-one did. And he would like for things to stay that way. But he wasn't sure it would, with Mello around. Matt found it hard to lie to Mello, his best friend. Not only could Mello tell, but he felt incredibly guilty, and it always showed.

Mello was the whole reason he'd started wearing goggles. He didn't want Mello to know anything. He wanted to protect Mello, who looked so frail and lifeless in his loose black clothing, from the truth.

'Matt,' Mello murmured suddenly, shaking Matt out of his slight trance. The redhead glanced up, only to see Mello's bangs over his eyes, his head bowed slightly. He looked almost... _shifty_. But the tone of his voice spoke otherwise.

'...Why do you care so much about me?'

No sound. No movement. No emotion.

The whole world ceased to exist as Matt's heart stopped for that one second.

The second lasted for eternity.

_Why?_ He asked himself, blankly.

He'd asked himself the same question countless times.

Why did anyone care about anyone? The world wasn't logical. Nothing was logical. History wasn't made up of equations. Matt didn't believe in God, but he knew why Mello did.

This feeling Matt had... the pain, the suffering, yet the fury and passion he locked inside himself. None of it was logical.

The world, logically, was made up of elements and minerals that had been pulled gravitationally towards each other in one solid lump of rock billions of years ago, and basic life forms had evolved out of a chemical reaction between some of those elements by chance. So the life that radiated from Mello that he unleashed upon anyone and everyone was, logically, just a bunch of particles formed from dust.

So, in the end, logically, there was no point to life.

'Do you need to ask?' Matt said softly. He hoped Mello could hear the emotion, understand even the tiniest bit of what he was feeling. But when Mello looked up, a very different expression on his face, like the smallest spark of something like hope, the expression almost immediately dissipated and was replaced once again with a blank mask.

His eyes, Matt realised.

Mello couldn't see them.

For the first time since adorning them, which had been only weeks after he'd arrived at the orphanage, Matt regretted ever putting them on.

'I'm waiting,' Mello said resolutely.

And Matt didn't have an answer.

'You're my friend,' Matt muttered, hoping that would be enough. He hoped that would be enough for Mello.

It wasn't, it turned out.

'I'm not your only friend,' Mello mumbled, his head bowing further.

Huh?

Matt was caught off-guard.

That remark had come out of nowhere.

When he didn't reply, Mello continued.

'Matt, I... I think you should stop worrying about me and go on with your own life,' he whispered.

This was it. Time to break it off now, before he could let the burden get to him.

Having these emotions hurt, Mello realised. It was all very well exploiting them, but when it came to the crunch, Mello had never had a bond with anyone like this.

He had a bond of mutual annoyance when it came to Near, and a bond of reluctant agreement with Roger. He had a bond of respect when it came to L. He'd never met him, but he trusted him and believed in him until the end. Impressing him and living up to him meant everything to Mello.

Worrying about anyone else for a change was new; Matt had changed that – coming to Wammy's, so thin and gaunt, like a walking corpse.

The way he suddenly blushed and squirmed and came to life when Mello touched him – it was endearing.

He ticked Mello off, right off the bat. Calling him a girl... oh, what a hoot. The little worm, so delicate and slim underneath him with his pink cheeks and soft hair, he looked pretty feminine himself. Mello had wiped the floor with him. Strange, but... he got the feeling Matt had let him. Why was that?

'...What do you mean?' Matt eventually spoke up. Was it Mello's imagination, or did Matt have a hurt tone behind the obvious confusion? No, that wasn't possible. Mello wasn't worth worrying about.

'What I said.'

'That's a load of shit!' Matt exploded.

Mello started, his head jerking up to look at Matt in surprise, and got an even bigger shock when Matt strode up to him and dug his nails into Mello's shoulders.

'Stupid... stupid!' Matt hissed between gritted teeth, nose almost touching Mello's he was so close. 'What is _wrong_ with you?'

'What's wrong with _me_?' Mello choked, finding his voice after the initial shock. His heart was banging in his chest; he'd never seen Matt like this. He tried to grip Matt's wrists, to shove them off himself and create a bit of distance between them, but found he couldn't. Fuck, he was strong. And so much taller than Mello. What had happened to the skinny little rat from nearly two years ago? Had he always been this tough? He didn't look it. 'Damn it, Matt! Let the hell GO!'

'Not until you tell me what's wrong!' Matt retorted hotly. He was shaking. He'd never allowed himself to reveal his more vehement side in front of Mello, but he couldn't stop himself now he'd started.

'_You really want to know_?' Mello was yelling now, partly out of self-defence. He hated to admit it, but he was almost _scared_. He was close enough to see Matt's eyes through his goggles, they were narrowed, and far too bright to be considered emotionally stable.

'Because I care, you idiot! What's the fucking _point_ of trailing after me like a goddamned DOG? You're not my bloody slave! You don't have to stay loyal to me! You call me your friend, all I fucking do is hurt you, when there are people who actually give a crap about you, so why don't you ditch me and hang out with them instead? I don't _need_ you, GOT IT?' he shouted.

Cheeks flushed, he turned his head away, seething. His eyes pricked with tears. _It had to be done_, he reminded himself. But he couldn't bring himself to see Matt's expression, which was now stricken and thoroughly wounded. Mello felt so guilty he couldn't stand it.

Matt's grip loosened on him, and Mello stumbled back, gasping, nearly tripping over his own feet from the sudden release.

Mello turned his back on Matt's hunched figure, knuckling his eyes. _Don't cry. _But it was futile. Mello had regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. _This is necessary, in order for Matt to move on._ Then why did it hurt so much?

Logic. Huh.

Funny how the world rarely plays by the book.

'You heard, didn't you.'

Mello stopped. That had been a statement, not a question.

'...Yeah.'

It had been the very reason for Mello neglecting sleeping for two days, why he was so agitated and wound up. He'd debated, all that time, barely concentrating on anything else, about what to do about Matt. He was holding Matt back. Mello was flattered that Matt seemed to care about him. Certainly, no-one else did. But to prevent his only friend from living his own life, that was going too far. Mello wasn't that cruel.

'Too bad, man,' Mello laughed awkwardly. 'She was cute. Your loss.'

'She's not my type,' Matt muttered. He was all too aware that Mello was trying to distract him.

'So, if she'd been your type, you'd have said yes?' Mello said tentatively.

Matt remained silent.

Mello didn't think he was going to answer until he finally spoke up.

'None of the girls here are my type.'

'Well, maybe if you _communicated_ with them once in a while –' Mello began.

'What's with you trying to fob me off on other people,' Matt cut across him coldly. 'What? Am I not good enough for you or something?'

'Matt, I –'

'Or is it because I'm not like _him_?'

Mello froze. 'Who?'

He knew perfectly well who.

Matt smirked without humour. 'Who d'you think.'

'You're being paranoid,' Mello snapped, turning away. 'This has nothing to do with Near.'

'Who said I was talking about Near?' Matt retorted.

'Stop playing games with my head!'

'Me? Play games? Mello, it's you who's paranoid.'

'Stop it.'

'Make me.'

Mello's fists curled at his sides, and in a moment of blind rage and frustration, _punched_ Matt straight in the eye; the force knocked them both into the bookshelf with a crash.

Or rather, he would have, if it weren't for the goggles.

The surface cracked, and both Matt and Mello cried out in pain as shards of glass dragged across flesh.

The sharp scent of iron tang made Mello's stomach twist itself in knots. His fist, splintered with blood-stained glass, dripped with gore. His hand looked like it had been torn to ribbons, yet he barely felt the pain. Horrified, he stared at his bloody fingers. A dribble of crimson ran down his wrist and pooled onto one pallid cheek.

Oh God.

Matt.

Mello's eyes rested on Matt, whose expression was unreadable. He looked paler than usual; the slight freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose stood out like a sore thumb. From the corner of the goggles, where Mello's fist remained, a thick trickle of blood leaked in a tear-like formation down his face.

'Oh, shit,' Mello gasped.

He withdrew his fist, extremely slowly, but Matt still shuddered and bit his lip, going a shade lighter than white as he forced himself not to make a noise, but couldn't help the slight whimper that left his throat. His face screwed up, and he struggled to breathe evenly. It hurt, it hurt so much...

'Oh shit, shit...' Mello gulped, his throat suddenly feeling so tight he couldn't breathe. He touched the cracked glass so gently he barely felt it. There was a shard that jutted out at an awkward angle, almost perpendicular from the surface.

Mello's stomach turned when he realised that meant the splinter of glass was aimed directly where Matt's left eye should be.

Mello's hand, torn and bloody, dropped back to his side in slow motion.

Time wasn't standing still.

But every frame of animation played in front of Mello's eyes at less than half the usual speed. A single second stretched into five, ten, twenty, forty... as Mello watched Matt drop to his knees like a puppet that's strings had been cut.

'MATT!' Mello cried, falling to his side.

He peeled off the goggles, sparing no mercy for time. With it came the splinter of glass. It raked over Matt's eyelid as it was released, blood spurting out like a leak in a pipe.

'Shit!' Mello repeated, his hands shaking as he tentatively went to inspect the damage. He reeled back, clutching his mouth, when he saw there was still glass stuck in Matt's eyelid, like a nail that had been hammered down as far as it could go. Mello's trembling fingers lightly traced the wound, but Matt recoiled sharply at his touch, backing as far away from him as he could.

'Don't... don't touch me...' he whispered.

Tears filled Mello's eyes.

He hadn't cried for years.

Not since the night he'd been packaged off to this orphanage.

What had happened to him in that time? Turned him into a sick twisted bastard who'd shoved glass in his best friend's eye, that's what.

Mello couldn't stop the tears then. They ran down his cheeks as he went limp, thick and fast, and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop them. He let them, his vision blurring out the sight of Matt slumped against the bookshelf, his left eye mangled and saturated with what was now leaking slowly past his chin and dribbling onto his striped t-shirt.

Matt commented weakly, 'This is the first time I've ever seen you cry. Well. If I could see, that is.'

With that, Mello came back to reality fast and took action. After wiping his streaming eyes, he grabbed Matt's hand and led him, blindly, towards the infirmary.

'It's going to be okay,' he repeated all the way there, over and over, not sure who to. Matt, or himself. Or to no-one in particular, but he was just praying for the sake of it.

_You did it again._

Mello dragged Matt faster, almost running.

_You're so impulsive._

'Shut up,' Mello hissed under his breath through gritted teeth. His good hand gripped Matt's tighter.

_Maybe because you never do think about the consequences of your actions, is why you're –_

'Shut the fuck up and leave me alone,' Mello muttered, with a vice-like grip on Matt's hand as he hurtled towards the door on the end of the corridor. He couldn't bring himself to listen to the voices, not now. Matt had already lost so much blood...

Mello burst through the doors, and practically screamed at the receptionist to help Matt, right now, who was slumped over Mello's shoulder like a rag doll. He'd fallen unconscious.

Alarmed, the receptionist pushed a button on the desk to ring for immediate attention, and in only a matter of seconds Matt was pulled from Mello's grip and shoved on to a gurney where he was wheeled off into a separate ward. When Mello tried to take a step forward in the same direction, a hand on his arm held him back.

'You can't go with him,' the receptionist informed him gravely.

'Don't you fucking tell me what to do!' Mello snapped, and tried to escape, but it was useless.

'If you don't follow the infirmary's policies, you may make it worse for the patient,' the receptionist replied totally calmly. She was obviously used to this, and had trained herself not to get emotional in situations like these.

Mello tugged again, half-heartedly, but knew he was fighting a losing battle. To the receptionist's intense surprise, he collapsed on to the cold floor, and wept. Tears of guilt and frustration sprang from his eyes, both perfectly healthy yet ringed with the mark of an insomniac.

Would Matt ever be able to cry again?

Mello only vaguely heard the receptionist try to reassure him, to insist that he got his hand checked out straight away, but he wasn't listening.

He was such an idiot.

Convincing himself he was doing what was best for Matt, what a laugh.

Mello was one hundred percent sure Matt would never forgive him.

* * *

**... I hope you're not wanting to kill me right now. ._.**

**How was that? Boring? I don't know... **

**Drop a review to tell me what you thought! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

__

**Woo! A REALLY long chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Pain.

That was the first thing Matt registered when he finally woke up.

The second thing – that he was not in his bedroom. Or Mello's, now that he thought about it. It was the only other place in Wammy's he was likely to wake up in other than his own bed. More often than not, from passing out after playing games for hours on end.

Mello never minded. At least, that's what Matt gathered. Rather than getting pissed off and complaining about space like any other person would have, Mello pretended not to notice. But Matt would always wake up warm, with the duvet tucked around him comfortably, and Mello sound asleep beside him on the small bed. Matt would watch, sometimes for many minutes, as Mello's chest rose and fell gracefully in time with his soft breathing – his delicate face turned toward him, golden hair splayed out on the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he sighed and his breath tickled Matt's freckled nose. Matt couldn't help but stroke Mello's face when that happened, and as his finger trailed along the blonde's jaw he was rewarded with the slightest shiver and hitch of Mello's steady breathing, but other than that he would continue to sleep, oblivious to the touch.

When Mello woke up, Matt always made a point to be already seated on the floor, playing games like normal. Neither of them would mention the incident, or acknowledge it had happened, but it would repeat itself over and over.

Matt loved those mornings.

But today, he couldn't see Mello. He couldn't feel the warm weight of Mello's lithe body curled up next to his, not even centimetres apart in the tiny bed. He couldn't stroke Mello's soft hair or caress his smooth, pale cheek and hear him purr in contentment. Just thinking about it made Matt's chest feel fluttery and his fingers twitch, aching to touch Mello discreetly. He missed him.

Where was he, anyway?

This place... it looked like the infirmary.

But his vision seemed somewhat skewed as he tried to place himself.

Matt sat up, rubbing his eyes, and suddenly hissed in the new-found pain as his knuckles made contact with his left eyelid. And then it all came flooding back.

Mello.

He'd _hit _him.

Matt froze, and paled when all the disjointed memories swam in front of him.

Mello acting strange.

Mello admitting to hearing his conversation with Laurel.

Mello getting pissed off and directing his fist straight at Matt's –

Stop, stop, stop.

That wasn't it.

Matt had provoked him, he realised with a sinking feeling. He'd been pretty childish, goading Mello like that. But to be honest... didn't he have a right to? After what Mello had told him?

Matt clenched his fists.

Mello had pretty much said that he didn't want him. No, that he didn't _need _him. That hurt. It _really_ hurt. How the hell was Matt supposed to understand that?

Matt tried to calm down and think rationally.

He wasn't the type to make excuses for people. Had never needed to. His parents –

OK, forget the parents. Matt never wanted to think of them again.

But even though Mello was notorious for letting his emotions get the better of him, he couldn't have done it without a good reason.

So maybe...

Matt cracked a smirk, wincing slightly as the muscles in his eye clenched, and shook his head. It was utter nonsense to think the blonde would care that much about him. So why would he go that far to make him understand? It wouldn't make sense for him to. Matt considered himself average. Totally average, if not less than that. Totally unworthy of Mello's attention, someone who was constantly fuelled by drive and emotion, someone beautiful. It was obvious Matt had been struck with unbelievable good fortune to be able to be friends with someone like him, to be able to touch a fragment of his life. Like his own personal sunshine, brightening his dull and gloomy life. Who needed the outdoors?

As Matt leaned back to lie down once again, the bed creaked under his shifting weight and his head fell back into the soft pillow. Soft, but firm enough to stir the muscles around his left eye.

Matt winced again.

The noise must have attracted someone, because not a moment later, a dark-haired woman peeked round the door, clutching a laden tray and making an anxious expression at him.

'Oh, you're awake,' she sighed, relieved, and walked round the side of the bed to lay the tray (piled with food, to Matt's great pleasure – he'd only just realised then how hungry he was) on his bedside table and pressing a cool hand against his forehead. 'You don't seem to have a fever...'

'My... I mean, may I –'

'Yes...' she paused for a moment, her expression taking one of self-pity. Not a good sign. 'I warn you... it may come as quite a shock...' She stopped at the look on Matt's face and smiled to reassure him. 'There's no need to worry... it's not like it scarred or anything. We cleaned away the blood...'

Matt's stomach twisted unpleasantly.

He really hadn't needed to hear that.

Just how bad was the damage?

The nice woman, who he supposed was a nurse working in the infirmary (though she didn't wear a nurse outfit, to Matt's intense disappointment), picked up a mirror from the tray she'd put on the table, and held it hesitantly in front of Matt. She looked at him, silently asking his permission, and whether he was _sure _about this.

'Go ahead,' Matt sighed, in a resigned voice. There was no need to get worked up. She'd as good as told him it wasn't mangled or a death trap of gore, like in those horror movies he watched with Mello when they snuck out to the TV room every week in the middle of the night, bringing a mountain of chocolate with them (and potato chips for Matt, who wasn't as keen on the sugary confection as Mello was). They hadn't done it again for such a long time, what with Mello who studied like he breathed... meaning all the time.

Matt shook his head and prepared himself for the worst, even though he was sure it wouldn't be.

The mirror was unfolded.

All Matt could do was blink a couple of times before the image finally sank in.

Now he understood why his vision was skewed...

His left eye was a little bloodshot, but that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that there was no pupil visible. No little black dot. Nothing.

His iris, a pale lemongrass-green that Mello once said reminded him of mint ice-cream, was blank.

In a way, this was worse than what he'd imagined.

Not only was it creepy, but...

'I'm sorry,' the nurse whispered sadly, confirming his thoughts on the spot. 'We did what we could, but I'm afraid with the damage that was inflicted on the organ, we had to sacrifice your sight. You'll never be able to see out of that eye again.'

Blind.

Blind in one eye.

All because of a _stupid, unimportant_ quarrel between him and Mello. One fight over something so trivial it could have cost them their friendship.

The seconds ticked by, and then the minutes. When it was clear Matt wasn't going to respond, the nurse took it as a sign to leave. She scanned his expression curiously. This one, the redhead... his face was kept carefully stoic, but his eyes... they were too bright. And shimmering. Too large in his pointed, pale face.

She looked away guiltily, like she was intruding on something without permission. So she stood up, not even stirring Matt out of his trance who was determinedly staring into space without blinking.

'I... I'll be through here. Just call if you need someone,' she said softly, and quietly left the room.

Even after she was gone, Matt stayed exactly where he was. He wasn't really looking at anything. His face was just tilted in the direction of the peeling white paint of the opposite wall, without seeing it.

Matt realised, vaguely, that even without his sight the tears could still fall.

* * *

_'But... but I HAVE to see him! Is he OK? What about his injuries?'_

_'I'm afraid we can't let anyone see him yet. I'm not even sure if Mr Ruvie will allow you to see him, after the incident. Watari, or even L may be contacted about this. Violence is never acceptable in this institution.'_

_'No way... L? But please! I have to tell him... I need to see...'_

Voices, disorientated and blurred, swam around Matt's ears and brain without the words making sense to him. They buzzed around his head, making it ache. _Go away... _he mumbled to himself, trying to block them out. He drifted in and out of an awkward sleep, not fully unconscious. He'd always been a pretty light sleeper, he supposed it was the artificial light of his handhelds that kept him tossing and turning. That, and the nightmares that would haunt him about the smell of the dank, rotten floor that pressed into his face forcefully as nails scratched him... tugged and pinched at areas he didn't know were painful... Matt shuddered in his sleep, shaking that comatose thought away. His thoughts drifted to Mello. How comfortable and warm his room was, and how sitting close to him was a source of inner calm and relaxation... how ironic, Matt thought pensively, for a moment.

Then he thought about how he was dead to the world as soon as he closed his eyes in that climate. He could sleep so soundly, that he wouldn't notice Mello gently moving him under the covers, tucking them around his neck to keep him warm, then getting undressed and crawling in next to him... that notion made him jerk a little out of his dreamy slumber as he recalled Mello, sometimes wearing only an oversized black t-shirt to sleep in, would unconsciously wrap a slim arm around Matt's middle and snuggle closely into him. He was so soft... the slight smile that played across his pale lips looked so peaceful and angelic...

_'Mello...'_ Matt breathed. Even when unconscious, the memories could make his heart beat faster...

* * *

Later.

Much later.

Matt had no idea how long he'd been asleep.

He opened one eye. His good one. The eye that could see.

The room didn't immediately come in to focus, so he waited for the sleep-induced fog to clear. When it did, he noticed he was still in the infirmary. He could tell from the peeling white paint on the opposite wall, and the creaky bed that shifted under his weight.

It was dark outside. Night had fallen, and it was one of those cool, Winchester summer nights – Matt could feel it. The room was cold, almost like it was being refrigerated. It suited him. He hated heat and sunlight. Probably a factor of his pale skin. Then again, Mello was pale, but even he had a healthier complexion than Matt did. Mello always was the outdoors-y type, Matt smiled to himself. More often than not, Mello had tried to drag him outside to study in the sun, but Matt was content with lurking in the cool shade of the House.

Funny...

The room was cold.

Matt's right hand was cold; his fingers were cool against the heated skin of his cheek as he touched his own face.

But his left hand was warm, he noticed. Why was that?

He looked down, turning his head to get a better view now that the left side of his vision wasn't functioning. Matt realised with a slight jolt that his hand was being held by another hand... a hand attached to an arm... the arm attached to a figure slumping, fast asleep, across a chair that had been drawn up to the side of the bed. It was dark, but the moonlight that streamed in through the window illuminated the outline of light hair and pale skin in a dark silhouette... like an eclipse, or some sort of dark angel... the person wore a thin, long-sleeved, v-neck sweater made of soft, dark material. Their hand was so small and light in Matt's, fingers loosely draped through his...

Mello.

Matt whispered his name, stretching the word out sensually on his tongue. Mello stirred, leaning forward unconsciously to bow his head. His hair hung in golden tendrils, a fascinating shade of blue in the pale moonlight. Only the shape of his lips and his contrastingly dark eyelashes could be seen in this light. And when he turned his head in his sleep, Matt could see the tiniest hint of a tear-trail, from the corner of his eye to his chin, reflecting the soft light trickling through the window. The spikiness of his eyelashes and the texture of his tired eyelids made it look like he'd been crying a lot, but Matt didn't believe that.

After all, this _was _the guy who'd punched him in the face.

Which didn't explain Matt's actions for leaning closer and closer, to examine each and every little detail of his friend's sleeping face.

Matt reached out to trail his fingers, clumsily, against one pallid, tear-tracked cheek. His usual routine.

As soon as his fingers brushed Mello's soft skin, the blonde let out the quietest of sighs, unconsciously leaning into Matt's hesitant touch. Heart in his throat, Matt's fingers trembled as he gently traced Mello's jaw line, curved delicately along his throat, to the sensitive spot where Mello's neck met his shoulder. He was met with a small, shuddering breath that escaped Mello's parted lips, subtly as a whisper, and it tickled Matt's ear as he leaned in closer.

Matt's stomach felt unnaturally fluttery, like he had butterflies. He felt really weird doing this to Mello, but the sounds his friend made when he was touched like this were intoxicating. Innocent at the same time. It was _addictive_.

Matt pulled away slightly to inspect the damage.

A straight punch into tough glass was bound to hurt.

Sure enough, Matt's right hand had been wound up in bandage, looking a lot like a teddy bear's paw which made Matt grin and blush (he couldn't resist Mello looking so adorable), yet it looked frail and delicate so he took pity and resigned himself to stroking the material with his free hand.

Matt was touching him more now than he ever had before, consciously at least. He supposed it was the moonlight. It heightened his instincts, and his emotions were breaking out of his stoic demeanour. And Mello looked so much more attractive to him now than usual in his light-headed state, how could he not?

He experimentally stroked lower down Mello's skin, soothing his collarbone, teasing along the edge of the sweater's opening. The contact provoked a traitorous, quiet half-moan to spill from the blonde's lips. Mello stretched in his chair, leaning his head slightly to the side so the hollow in his throat was more pronounced, presenting himself to Matt, who swallowed. He really should stop... it was unfair to Mello, who was being manipulated when unconscious. But... maybe just a little more wouldn't hurt...

Matt was so close he was leaning right over the edge of the bed, his body outstretched as he struggled to get closer still. He was trembling. Mello was just too attractive; he wasn't sure how to compose himself. He wasn't even sure what happened next. Where was he supposed to touch...?

_'Matt..._'

His name.

Mello had breathed _Matt's_ name in his sleep.

Matt stilled, captivated by Mello's expression on his virtuous face. His cheeks were slightly darker, lips parted into a subtle smirk – his breathing was heavier, his small fingers curling in Matt's palm. He shocked Matt further by spreading his legs a little further apart, knees shivering and twitching on the chair seat. Matt's face was heating up... he was _burning_. He didn't know what to do with himself. No, that was a lie. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to wake Mello up from his dream, whatever he was dreaming about, and watch Mello's reactions as he repeated his earlier actions from when Mello was unconscious. He wanted to be accepted and taken in by Mello's warm embrace. He wanted to... break free of his inner turmoil.

But Mello would kill him.

Matt had known for a long time what he felt for Mello wasn't natural. He didn't know what it was exactly, but it felt different from the way he interacted with everyone else, people he could possibly call friends. He thought Mello was... dare he say it... _cute_. That couldn't be right. Mello was the first real friend he'd ever had, maybe the only one who'd care about him that much, more than anyone else would in a lifetime. But even Matt knew it was strange for friends – _boys_, at least – to be in such close intimacy as they were. He'd noticed girls weren't embarrassed to huddle together, whispering and giggling, linking arms and maybe even holding hands. Nobody found that strange at all. Boys were more... aloof. They joked and laughed and fooled about and slapped friends on the back playfully, but not a lot more. They never really talked about feelings, because it was such a _drippy_ thing to do.

It was different with Mello.

They talked about their problems. Well, not exactly. Mello usually paced the room, whether it was his or Matt's that they'd taken to settling at the time, and have a mini-rant. Whether it was about Near, or lessons, or L, or how Roger didn't trust him, or what he thought of this theory in a book he'd read for class, or that he was sick of this brand of chocolate and wanted something with more bite – he'd talk about anything and everything, like a speech. Like he was letting out all his emotions and mayhem out in the open. He didn't always remember Matt was there, and Matt usually pretended to be playing his game to make it easier for Mello to talk freely and not have to meet his eye, but he always listened. Mello in a vehement discussion was awe-inspiring to watch. Too many times to count, Matt had been distracted and got totalled on whichever level of his game he'd gotten to because he was concentrating on Mello's slim hips and how they swayed in time to Mello's walk, rather than the game.

Mello had often wanted to know more about Matt's past, but he always avoided the questions with vague responses. He wasn't ready to tell Mello yet, and wasn't sure if he'd ever be, but those times had never been the time or place to tell him the exact details. Instead, he'd listen to Mello's wistful reminiscences about the family he'd lost in a fire many years ago. It sounded like he'd really loved them, which made Matt slightly envious. He'd wished he'd known what it was like to have parents who cuddled you when you were feeling down, who worried about you, and told you they loved you. As Mello was remembering, he'd pause and get a miserable expression on his face as he remembered his mother and father and baby sister who'd all died that day, and then Matt would cease his envy and comfort him. Maybe it was better that he'd never loved his own parents, Matt decided. Then he wouldn't have to deal with the hurt and angst that haunted Mello to this day.

Whenever Matt saw the blonde, his heart would give a little leap and a grin would spread across his face, especially if Mello was stalking towards him in the way that he did, hips swaying, with a chocolate bar in one hand and a pout teasing his lips. The sight always made Matt smirk in that knowing way, that would cause Mello to smile cheekily back at him. A mutual understanding.

Matt knew their relationship was different from everyone else's.

He leaned away from Mello, in the dark, to quietly observe him, as he rocked slightly in his sleep.

It would be a large, colossal joke if he thought Mello could ever consider him special like he did him.

Matt smirked – his signature smile that made could make even the harder-to-get girls melt – without humour. He leaned back so that his head was touching the pillow again, and stared up at the ceiling. It would be impossible to get back to sleep now. So he just remained there, stroking Mello's hand absent-mindedly.

Mello had to care a little, if he had stayed beside Matt while he slept, to the point where he'd fallen asleep himself, without a blanket or anything to wrap around his shoulders. Matt wondered for a moment why that was – if a nurse had let him in, then surely they'd have noticed Mello? He thought back to the nurse he'd met earlier. She seemed a nice enough person, the decent kind who'd see Mello and make sure he was warm enough. Mello couldn't have been here that long then, unless it was really late at night. Had he snuck out while everyone else was going to bed? Matt remembered Mello was still in his day clothes. Maybe he _had _been here a while. Matt got a warm, fluttery feeling in his chest when he considered the idea. Mello had even gone so far as to hold his hand.

A sudden yawn escaped the blonde, and he stretched in fatigue. Matt froze, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling, careful not to startle Mello as he woke up.

Mello didn't seem to remember where he was until he went to rub his eyes, and remembered one of them was bandaged, the other's fingers knitted through Matt's. That was enough to open his eyes wide, staring at the interlocked hands. His eyes drifted up Matt's slender form hidden by white sheets up to his chest, hovering over his exposed collarbone and willowy neck to the point of his chin, and into darkened eyes that were turned in his direction.

'Hey...' Matt whispered shakily, smiling.

Gasping, Mello stood up and quickly released his grip on Matt's hand in an almost snatching motion. He was glad it was dark, for the blush that was spreading across his cheeks would have been too much for him to bear if Matt saw.

Then he realised, with a sinking feeling, Matt could see his face. The moonlight made everything in the room visible enough to have colour.

Quickly, he turned away, but it was too late. Matt had seen.

'Mello...'

Feeling like his face was on fire, Mello peeked at Matt under his hair, and his cheeks flushed when he saw Matt was also blushing, turned slightly away from him. He couldn't see his eyes any more.

'I – I –'

'It doesn't matter,' Matt sighed, turning back to face him, smiling again. His left eye was closed, or maybe his eyelid was just a bit lazy, after...

Mello felt awful. How could he have done that to his friend? His best friend, who never wanted to be anywhere else but with him, who he always had fun with, who always aided him, who never complained, who had such thin-looking limbs no matter how much he ate...

He'd fucking punched _glass_ in his eye. Holy crap.

Why the hell was he SMILING at him?

'I'd better get going,' Mello stuttered, though he tried to keep his tone emotionless, as he stumbled in his haste to leave.

There was no way Matt would want to –

'Mello...'

Oh, please, _please_ no... not that voice. The only voice in the world that could make Mello hesitate, calm down, manipulate his actions. There was a silent plea tugging on Mello's heartstrings, and before he knew it he'd turned and sat quietly back in his chair. Only Matt could do this to him. He wouldn't stop for anyone else.

'Mello, I'm sorry.'

Mello's head snapped up at that. Matt could see the shock and hurt that filled the blonde's eyes as he processed what Matt had just said.

'What the hell should iyou/i be sorry for?' Mello hissed incredulously, but with no venom. He simply looked... upset, and disbelieving.

'I'm sorry for... being such a pain in the ass,' Matt decided on. He hoped that it might make him crack a smile, but instead Mello bowed his head and averted his eyes. He was still sensitive about what he'd said to Matt in the library. He'd _tried _to mean it... he'd convinced himself it was all for the best, even if it pained him to do it, but he couldn't avoid the fact that he'd felt the tiniest leap of joy when Matt had fiercely refused. Oh, but then he'd squashed it down. There was no way that another human would willingly throw their life away for one person, after all...

'You're not,' Mello blurted out, before he could stop himself. Shit. He was supposed to be pushing Matt away, before they grew too close for their own good. But the sight of Matt's soft smile and beautifully green eye, unhidden by his mop of red hair and goggles for once, did strange things to his voice of reason.

Oh, fuck it.

He let his heart sing.

'Matt, I...' he began, before his face crumpled and tears spilled down his cheeks. He slid off the chair, crawled over to Matt and wrapped his arms around the redhead, burying his face in his chest as he howled. Oh God, he loved his smell – it was musky, like a comforting spice. He breathed the scent in deeply, as he continued to cry. Matt's skin was so soothing...

'M-Mello?' Matt stammered, staring down at the mess of tousled blonde hair in panic. He was getting soaked in Mello's tears; the blonde was shaking and racking with uncontrollable sobs as he wept his heart out on Matt's chest. Hesitantly, Matt's arms lifted of their own accord to hold Mello close. He let his hands stroke Mello's golden locks, massaging his scalp, running his hands through the tangles in an attempt to calm him.

Mello relaxed, ever so slightly, moving to rest his head on Matt's shoulder. His shuddering breaths ghosted across the heated skin of Matt's neck, lips cool against his throat. Matt fought not to react. But it was near impossible, with his heart beating right next to Mello's in the intimate position. He was sure Mello could sense the slight hiccup in his pulse when he trailed his delicate fingers from Matt's middle to rest on his chest, his palm moving over a sensitive spot. The fingers then took to curling themselves around Matt's shirt, clutching the soft material. Mello could smell his neck, and he wondered vaguely why the scent made him kind of dizzy and light-headed. Kind of like sniffing detergent.

'Matt,' he whispered into Matt's neck. 'I... I _hit_ you...' The tears started leaking again.

'Yeah,' Matt murmured, winding his fingers through the blonde's soft hair some more. The feeling of Mello's lips on his neck was heightening his senses. Somehow, he was reminded of the very first time he met Mello.

Mello moved, to lean his face up directly above Matt's. Their noses were almost touching they were so close. Matt worried if Mello could feel the heat emitting from his face, only to have Mello rest his bandaged hand on his cheek, timidly touching his left eyelid. Ah.

Letting a corner of his mouth quirk up in a small smile to reassure him, Matt moved Mello's hand away, and sat up abruptly, almost tossing Mello to the floor. Mello didn't act surprised, he knew what Matt wanted. So he aided himself in finding the light switch on the bedside lamp.

As the dim light flooded the corner of the room, Mello's attention rested vaguely on the tray of food next to the lamp. It consisted of an apple, a bottle of plain water and a bag of chips. Untouched, by the looks of it. The nurse must have known in advance that Matt may not have an appetite to eat straight away, if at all.

Matt shifted, sitting up straight in an effort to get comfy. With his left eye still unopened, he kept his remaining green eye trained on Mello's blue ones. Damn. The guy's bangs was hanging over one of them slightly. Matt ignored all senses of déjà vu and aching to touch in favour of opening his left eye, quietly presenting the full extent of the damage.

He regretted seeing the look of utterly stricken expression on Mello's face. A hand was clasped over his mouth, and tears threatened to leak again.

'Hey,' he sighed, almost tiredly, 'it's not the end of the world. It could have been mangled, or infected. They may have had to gouge it straight out of its socket, leaving me with an eye patch for the rest of my life. Wow, that's not such a bad idea... I could cosplay. Plenty of redheads with eye patches out there,' he joked, in an effort to reassure Mello that it really wasn't that bad. When it was clear it wasn't working, Matt panicked. 'Come on, Mello –'

'Matt, please don't try to make me feel better,' Mello choked, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. 'It's all my fault. My own stupid fault. You have every right to be mad at me. So why don't you tell me what you're _really _thinking?'

'What I'm really thinking?' Matt coldly repeated back at him. Mello looked up, straight into the bottomless pale iris that pinned his attention there, gazing at him accusingly. He shivered.

'What I'm really thinking... he's my best friend, he wanted to get rid of me. I thought he liked me, instead he hits me. I try to put on a brave face to keep him happy, and then he expects me to make him feel like shit. Is that what you wanted me to say, Mello?' Matt questioned him.

Mello hung his head.

_'That's not how I feel.'_

Mello looked up in surprise... what was he saying?

'Mello, friends have fights all the time. And this... well. It's not the worst that could have happened. Come on, let's be honest – with your temper, I think I got off pretty lightly this time,' Matt joked, cracking a smile. Mello glared, which just made him grin even more widely, and eventually Mello's frown melted into something resembling a genuine smile in return.

'Matty, I don't deserve you.'

Matt almost choked - _Matty?_

With that, Mello burst out laughing at the look on Matt's face, but quickly remembered to laugh quietly because it was the middle of the night and everyone in the House should have been asleep. That thought gave him a tiny thrill – just him and Matt, talking and laughing together, in a world of their own. The atmosphere made it feel even more secret, like they were two little kids playing inside a den.

'Hey, Mels...'

Mello's head jerked before he could stop himself... Matt was good at retorts. He actually kind of liked the nickname, even though it wasn't based off his _real_ name.

'Yeah?' he asked, smiling.

'...What were you dreaming about earlier?'

Matt waited in anticipation for Mello's reaction, but the room remained silent for several seconds. When Mello finally spoke, it was in a very careful tone that betrayed nothing, which immediately made Matt suspicious.

'What made you think I was dreaming?'

'You breathed my name in your sleep,' Matt said simply. _And... other things._ But he didn't want to go into great detail about it. It would have sounded almost perverted, the idea of watching Mello so closely while he slept (though he supposed Mello had done the same to him), and the truth was kind of embarrassing and probably meant nothing anyway.

'...Really,' Mello murmured, after yet more seconds had passed.

'Really.'

'I dream a lot of things. I don't remember.'

'But it was right before you woke up.'

_'I don't remember.'_

'Fine,' Matt sighed, giving up. If Mello didn't want to say, then he sure as hell wasn't going to waste energy on making him. Mello was undeniably one of the most stubborn people he'd _ever_ meet in his entire life, no matter how long it would wind up being.

'It's not like _you_ever tell me anything, anyway,' Mello murmured, before he could stop himself.

Matt stilled immediately. '...What was that?'

'Um, nothing,' Mello said quickly, but he could feel Matt's gaze burning where Mello's bangs hung over his eyes. 'Actually... there's been something I've been meaning to ask you...'

'What is it?'

Matt's tone didn't give anything away, it sounded monotonous as usual. Not encouraging in the slightest. But Mello decided to go for it anyway.

'Matt, I want to know about your past.'

_Huh. It'd only been a matter of time, after all,_ Matt thought dully. Of course Mello would want to know.

'Nothing to know, really,' he said off-handedly.

'Matt, I know for a fact that you were abused.'

_Shit._

'How'd you find that out?'

'It was obvious,' Mello whispered. His bandaged hand, clasped in his lap, trembled a little as he hesitantly reached up to brush his bangs out of his eyes. 'You were so thin. I know you're naturally skinny, but you were malnourished. I could tell from how you felt, when I... when I...' he blushed.

'Yeah, when you held me,' Matt murmured. So from day one, Mello had guessed. He never considered, all the times he'd happened to get undressed in front of Mello, whenever they took showers together in the bathrooms – the bruises. The scars. The ruptures of skin that would never fade away. Of course it had been obvious.

And now, they were approaching the climax of the topic.

'Awfully lucky break for you, I guess... I mean, seeing as you ended up here, they had to have died,' Mello smiled nervously. He felt uncomfortable with Matt's lack of expression, now that he was minus his goggles. It was unnerving. Like he'd hardened his heart.

Matt smirked. Again, it was mocking. No sign of humour, anywhere.

'I never told you my biggest secret, because I like you, Mello. I like you. I like living here in Wammy's with you. I _like_ my life now. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me, in my insignificant existence. I want to stay here, with you, and continue to be happy, but I couldn't tell you, or anyone, in fact... because I know someone like you could never understand.'

'...Matt?' Mello asked uncertainly.

'Mello,' Matt whispered.

_'I..._

_...killed my parents.'_

* * *

**DUN DUN DUN! :O Cliffhanger!**


End file.
